


Of Relocations And New Beginnings

by writingtoreachyou



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Depression, Loneliness, M/M, Moving On, New Beginnings, highly inspired by Mark's interviews on how he slipped into alcoholism, new flat new luck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7756747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingtoreachyou/pseuds/writingtoreachyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark realises that moving doesn't always help to run away from your demons - even though it made it a hell of a lot easier. </p><p>(written about 5 years ago)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Relocations And New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sairyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sairyn/gifts).



> I found this when I did a 'First Line' meme on Tumblr and it reminded me of a very dear friend, so I decided to post it, even though it's not her fandom... I wrote this when I first moved into this place and was highly inspired by my own life events.
> 
> It's actually a translation of a fic I wrote in German first but people wanted to have an English version to it, so I tried to get the essence across. I hope I did :) If anyone wants the German version, give me a shout and I'll upload it.

All of this had been a lot easier once; Mark was certain of that as he sat on the floor in his empty living room, leaning against the wall with bent knees. The acrid smell of freshly applied furniture polish in the next room and the odors of the beige color of the wall opposite to him mixed to an unpleasant combination that went straight to both his head and stomach. And inevitably, he began to have second thoughts. Was this the right decision? The right time? Wouldn’t he regret it at some point?

He looked around.  
Soon these rooms would be filled with life. New memories with old friends. The sharing of old memories with new friends. A new period in his life. Was he truly ready? Deep in his heart he knew that he did not trust himself one bit. So how could anybody else out there be sure that he would not just one day go out and get cigarettes, never to return again? After all, he was known for being a guy who’d take to his heels...

The first escape had been the one from home. Well, that was part of growing up, most people could possibly relate to that one. It wasn’t his parents, he was running from. Neither was his moving out a result of a bad relationship with his siblings. Even if it had sometimes annoyed him to share a room with Daniel, he had always appreciated their good conversations. And he adored his sister and was very proud of her. One could almost say that he had grown up in a picture perfect family: Happy parents who loved each other and their children, siblings that he got along with and no major setbacks that could have thrown him off track. All in all his childhood had been carefree and he had only had the best memories of his high school years - even if some of the guys had called him gay because he was a midget and did have some feminine features about him.

One of the reasons for his moving could have been his job that took him to more and more interesting and foreign places abroad that after a while, he no longer felt comfortable at home. Mark wanted to be normal when he wasn’t touring and simply return to his old life for a few days - but that was not as simple as it sounded. His family wanted to participate in what he was up to and they were very interested in what he was doing but talking about busses and planes, foreign cultures and people - it all made him realise that they were no longer part of his life. In addition, he was so tired of sharing his experiences and feelings, his thoughts and beliefs all the time, in interviews, during Meet & Greets, pretty much everywhere. When he closed the door behind all of that, he just wanted to be Mark, a son, a brother, a human being. Somehow it was also difficult to describe what they should have done differently; God beware, he’d never blame them for trying. It was just the way it was: the loneliness crept gradually into his life and that fucking scared him. All those years he had felt loved, respected and safe but the fact that no one experienced anything like the things he saw everyday - not even close! Both positive and negative... - isolated him more and more.  
One day he sat at the table and felt like a mere observer. His siblings were teasing each other and kicking each other’s legs under the table, his parents were talking excitedly about a distant relative and he was like an alien that just happened to be on earth to have a closer look at the human species but didn’t quite understand it.   
The next day he got himself an apartment.

Apartment two. Mark stood up, opened the window and took a deep breath. That had been a proper kneejerk action. He didn’t even have to close his eyes, his mind conjured the memories up like magic; Mark was immediately and automatically forced back in time - which unfortunately still happened on a regular basis, though not quite as often as in the beginning when the wounds were still fresh.  
They had been arguing, him and Rob. About Rob’s new friends that Mark couldn’t stand. But the dispute escalated, not because Mark told him so but because his friend no longer trusted him, didn’t want him around any longer.   
"Why don’t you just go to your new friends if they are so much better than me?" Mark had asked reproachfully.  
"That’s exactly what I’ll do, you're just freaking jealous!" Rob had replied angrily. And hit home.  
"Just wait until they no longer need you! The are just taking advantage of you, Rob!"- That was also true. And Mark was sure that Rob knew that as well.  
And with a bang the door was closed.  
Suddenly his flat was a trap. The rooms in which the two of them had spent so many hours just pondering on life, the band, the future. The apartment in which Mark realised that this loneliness he had felt since the first moving simply was a part of his life and that it was damn tiring to suppress that voice that demanded attention and care. The place where he realised that he wasn’t the only one feeling that way. If two aliens don’t know where their home planet is, they cling to each other because they are the only thing they have, the only real thing, the only thing they can rely on, the only thing they understand.  
At least Mark had felt that way.   
And then suddenly he was floating alone through space without support and without a plan. Rob had chosen a different co-pilot and the voice was back.  
And then there was this girl. They had known each other for three months, when Rob and Mark had that fight. Two weeks later, Mark moved in with her.

Everybody with a somewhat sensible mind could figure out by themselves that moving in with the girl that quickly could not have been a very smart idea. The doubts that he now felt were similar to those he had then. He hardly knew Joanne but really liked her. Still: If you’re running that desperately from something, it will sooner or later catch up with you. The two survived the end of the band, they even survived a lot more ups and downs than one would assume considering the circumstances under which they had moved together. And Joanne's apartment became more and more theirs. Mark bought a piano which was now in the living room, he put up a few of his pictures, the two of them painted a couple of walls, bought furniture together and eventually, after both had settled down a bit, he realised that he did no longer feel like a visitor. And that was nice.  
He damn well didn’t make it easy for her, he was absolutely aware of that. To say that he was an uncomplicated partner would have been a lie. More often than he would have liked to, Mark felt like something inside him was just not right. As if he was a clockwork with more than just one spare part missing. Sometimes he wondered if it really was all down to his career - it would have been so easy to blame it on something like that - or if something deep inside of him had always been broken.  
He couldn’t answer it.  
But when he watched Rob from the back of those venues or when he listened to his records, he knew that he also still felt like an outsider. Alone. Haunted by demons he could not name - and those are the worst because you can only fight what you know.  
Over the years he noticed how his things got more and more pushed into the background. Walls were repainted, pictures exchanged - after a while the whole house seemed to be screaming "Mark, I don’t wanna see you anymore." Okay, maybe not. Maybe it was just an excuse to explain why he was so anxious, wanted to run away. The alien in search of the ultimate cure for his loneliness. The observer who no longer felt part of his life.   
When he left this time, Joanne was crying. She looked at him with wide eyes and asked, "What is it that I cannot give you?".  
Mark didn’t know what to answer.

So again from scratch. Packed cases, wrapped furniture - but the majority was actually Joanne’s, so it was no big deal - new stuff, visiting home improvement stores, painting, too many levels, too high walls, too clumsy Mark. Things break, things just disappear never to come to the surface again, chaos on all fronts - and he was infinitely glad that he didn’t have to carry the piano alone.  
At that point, Mark was thankful for not having to think much; carrying boxes and putting them into their designated rooms was just what he needed. He suppressed everything that happened back in their appartment. All the ‘we’s and even more ‘our’s. Being an individual again. Why it liberated him so very much was something he could not explain but the fact that he just could sit back and listen to his own breathing calmed him immensely.  
Then there was silence.  
And he had time.  
So much time for himself.  
He started to work on new songs. Reluctant at first - after all his career had pretty much gone down the drain - but then with increasing passion. Mark probably wrote three entire albums for the bin because nobody wanted to hear them until he decided to put all his eggs in one basket and start his own business. Maybe that was foolish, he was only just moving into this house which was financially risky enough. However, he was still confident that he could do it, he rarely had been as convinced of one thing as of his own label. And even if it all went to hell: What did he have to lose? His face, true, but he had survived a few crash landings and humiliation in the past - was there possibly a better starting position for a kamikaze pilot than with their back to the wall?  
So he spent days and nights in his new living room and wrote and wrote and recorded one song after another. Songs that would end up unfiltered and in writing order on his next solo album and which documented his journey back to life.  
As he lay the foundation for his new start with "They Do”, he knew it would not be easy to find himself in the process, because he only discovered then how much he had lost himself over the past years. And he knew that the fear of loneliness was like an echo inside of him that kept on nagging him over and over again and as illogical as that sounded, it got him where he was now: in a big house. Alone. And like a mantra he repeated the lines of his own song to remind himself of the people out there who cared about him and were there for him.  
"Believe In The Boogie" was written in one night. It was almost as if it had always been there, hidden somewhere inside him and his new environment allowed him to admit that. These new walls were rejuvenating, they helped him capture the creativity that magically grabbed him and didn’t let go for a while. All he had to do was press “record” and tape it. Suddenly, many things became so clear. For example that he had to keep writing no matter what happened. That some paths would cross again. And how much he missed him in his life...  
Rob would never call him first. That was one of the facts. And he knew he wanted to call him. That was another fact. Over the years he had learned that his friend was unreliably and he’d come to terms with it. On the other hand, he did not run after him like a mangy dog. And again they were running in circles. If he was completely honest with himself, he knew exactly what Joanne had been for him and he felt incredibly sorry that he had exploited her like that. It had taken so many years to realise what he wanted. Which didn’t help him at all because there was no way he could get it.   
All or nothing. That was at least an honest approach. All or nothing. When he was finally ready to admit that to not only himself but with the world, he worked long and hard on "Stand" and "Come On" and it took him another three months to finish the album. “Exorcism” was probably the term that described it best - but he failed to properly get rid of the devil. Mark was proud of his work, satisfied with his achievements and yet he was unhappy. The reason was simple and difficult at the same time: When he had vowed "all or nothing", he had secretly hoped and prayed that the answer would not be "nothing".  
Even the most beautiful pictures and furniture in the world could not overplay the emptiness inside him. A house becomes a home when you share it with other people. When you can still picture yourself in the same building in 10 years time. Mark could no longer pretend that he had arrived while in fact everything inside of him was still programmed to "transit".  
When Jay visited him for the first time in years, he remarked that the place was a bit too bare for his taste - and without knowing it Jason’s one sentence summed up Mark’s emotional state. It was time for a change. And that came sooner than expected.

"The house is just too big and I'm never there anyway," he heard himself say.   
Gary looked at him perplexed "Yes, but didn’t you move in just two years ago?". How could he possibly explain that he had put an infinite amount of time and work into this house and the moment it was finished he had lost interest in it? Some places were simply meant for transition for people that were not sure what to do next. Perhaps an apartment would have been enough, yes, but he didn’t want to relive the constriction of the past few years and when he looked at his album, moving into his house had been the best thing he could have done but so much had changed since then. He was back in Take That, he had his guys back - all except one - and he felt at home in their midst again. Why run away when something beautiful had come his way (to put it Rob’s way)? Why get lost in large, bare rooms, if he could also live in a cozy apartment in central London? Although he had only moved into his house two years ago, Mark felt as if he'd been waiting for half an eternity to move out again. Away from the sterile, large, white room, back into his world of ordered chaos. As long as he could have a room for his piano, everything would be fine.  
And so it happened that he once more packed his belongings - way more than last time, but with significantly more helping hands as well. All his guys were there, grinning at him and when the work was done and they all enjoyed their beer, he was sure that this was the best decision he had made in a very long time. He sat cross-legged on the floor and watched Gary who could not avert his eyes from his piano until Howard said what everyone was thinking "Come on, go ahead already, do what you gotta do..." and Jason finished his sentence "... but only if it’s no sentimental bullshit about the significance of this situation." When Mark closed his eyes and Gary started playing "Don’t Worry, Be Happy" with a smirk - not without asking Jason if he approved of the chosen song - a comfortable warmth spread inside of him (and not only because of the alcohol). No idea why it felt this good but for once he wasn’t on the run. Why question the moment and make it something bigger than it was? Why not simply enjoy life in the here and now? As someone nudged him from the side, he blinked, turned his head and looked at Howard's face. "Markie, it's nice to finally see you this happy again," he said. Everyone knew what Howard was talking about, there was no need to put it into words. But it did not matter. In this particular moment, it did not matter. And Mark felt the urge to grin so wide that all his muscles ached. At that moment he had arrived.

"Mark, get up, we gotta go!" Jason pounded like a madman at his apartment door but Mark pulled the blanket over his head like a stubborn child. Why on earth should he? The other three could just as well hold a studio session without him; Gary and Howard could work out some backing vocals or Jason could go and write some lyrics with the rest of the guys. The world would continue turning without him. If he’d simply play possum, Jason would disappear eventually, right?  
"I know you're home!" Jay was bluffing. How could he know that, after all Mark had been here for three days and nobody had seen him come or go. Sheets of paper with lines of lyrics were scattered on the floor. One thing was for sure: He definitely didn’t lack creativity at the moment. But at the same time he was not sure if he was ready to share what he was coming up with. It was just too close to home, way too personal. For the first time for ages he felt vulnerable.  
"Well, alright. Then I’ll sit down in front of the door and read my book, I have all the time in the world!"  
That was no empty threat, Mark had been around Jason long enough to know that much. He pushed the blanket aside and stumbled out of bed and tripped over a bottle of wine that loudly shattered into a few large pieces. "Fuck, fucking shit," he swore and held his head that roared in pain. He looked around: First, he gently pushed the three bottles that were not broken under his bed before cautiously lifting the broken one from the ground, careful to leave no shards. He let them fall into the bin next to the desk and pushed some sheets of paper together with his feet before letting two of the most depressing lyrics disappear under the bed as well. Then he put on a cardigan and went to the door to save Jason from the cold floor outside his apartment.  
What he had planned to say was something along the line of "Hey Jay, I’m sorry but I’m not doing too well, let’s postpone the songwriting", but anything he could have said after "Hey ..." got stuck in his throat as he looked into Jason’s eyes.  
"May I come in?" Jason asked with a quiet voice and of course Mark could not deny him that. He nodded almost imperceptibly and opened the door a crack to signal that he was welcome. Jay went into his kitchen almost as if he lived here. The two of them had spent so many nights in here when they’d just talked. Somehow, Mark had found a confidant in him he’d never recognised in the early years, something he definitely regretted now. Maybe some things could have turned out differently... Jason made them a cup of tea and sat down at his kitchen table. His eyes begged Mark to sit down and they remained silent, drinking their tea.   
Eventually, Mark began to talk.  
"I’m so lo... I’m such an idi... I don’t know where to start."  
Jason warmed his hands on the cup and gently asked, "What happened?".  
Nothing. Nothing happened. He had happened. How could he explain that?  
"I have..." a problem. "I have..." troubles to get through a day without alcohol. Just like that. It had just happened. Slowly but steadily. Always a little more. Mark was so ashamed. How could things have run out of hands like that? How low could you go? When and how had this place turned into such a dark and gloomy hole? It had all started so well! "I miss..." Rob. Still. After all these years. Mark sighed. How could he explain all that Jason without revealing too much? He wasn’t ready. Not at all.  
"You know, Mark, sometimes you are a little out of reach, then you're worlds away and holing up here and we don’t quite understand why you’re doing it. It’s not always easy, you know. We..." Jason thought well about how to phrase the next part, Mark could see that and it confirmed the high opinion he had of his friend. "...We will not leave you. You have to understand that. I don’t exactly know what to say to make you understand that. "  
When he heard himself laugh nervously, Mark knew that they saw threw his game. Over the past few weeks he had more and more withdrawn from anybody around him and had escaped from everything that was hurting him. Because he was afraid that they would leave him. That was schizophrenic, but if he’d turn his back on his friends first, they couldn’t abandon him. Now he looked at his friend and knew he had done them all wrong. Thought of the many happy hours in the studio, of Gary's admiring face when he saw that Mark was also capable of writing good songs, of Howard recognising that he was able to come up with some decent tunes and the approving nod of Jason when one of his lyrics was particularly good. Not to forget about all the moments between the guys, their loyalty, their jokes, the way everybody could laugh about themselves and the fighting for a mutual goal. How could he have forgotten about all that? How could he let his negative thoughts control his life that much?   
He could have come up with stupid excuses, react as if Jason had no idea what he was talking about. Instead he looked at his friend with tired eyes, smiled faintly and simply said "Thanks."  
So they both sat in silence and drank tea in his kitchen.   
Every now and then, Mark felt ready to entrust Jason with all the stuff that was bothering him but once he opened his mouth, his courage failed him. But that was okay. They didn’t have to talk that day. Jason was just there and made sure that his four walls no longer felt so empty. He stayed overnight and only left when he was sure that Mark wouldn’t pull off a stupid stunt. But not without emphasizing that he would always be there. The two looked at each other and Mark saw in Jay’s eyes that he knew a lot more about his condition than he admitted. It was the fact that Jason gave him more time without letting him down that got him through the next months.

Apartment .... Mark noticed that he had to begin to count, definitely a sign of moving too often. The first time during Take That, then moving in with Joanne, then the house, then the apartment. - Five. Flat five.  
Mark was standing here, in flat number five and stared out the open window.  
Again boxes. This time out of two apartments. Freshly painted walls - and they didn’t always agree on the colour - again putting up pictures. Self-painted and purchased ones. His first bedroom with television - something he was actually very much against but if the moving could only happen if he agreed on it, he’d even tolerate that silly appliance. An ancient nintendo (for old time’s sake), a brand new wii (for progress’ sake). The piano found its place, the guitars did.  
Yet again from scratch.  
Facing new hopes and new fears.  
He’d been in his last apartment for a really long time. A really intense time, too. The brightest and the darkest periods of his life clashed brutally here. This is the place where he sank to his lowest low, so low that he - and the people he loved - barely recognised himself anymore. All that alcohol, all that depression, that noise, those nameless faces, the long nights. How had it come to this? But it also meant that the bright moments gained so much more importance. The letter that Rob had written to him to rehab which he still carried with him everywhere he went. The first tentative attempts to integrate him back into the band - and of course most of all the fact that he was back. That it was on his own initiative and Mark didn’t feel any longer as if he was being pathetic by running after an idea of a life together that would never become reality. That very moment when Rob stood there, almost shy, facing him and telling him how very sorry he was for never calling him and having abandoned him like that and Mark’s instantaneous forgiveness. The album recordings, the slow process of becoming a proper, close unity again. These moments were so strong and so significant to Mark that they could outshine the dark thoughts he had at times, the doubts, the fears and the fights for sobriety almost completely. And he wouldn’t let anybody or anything take that away from him again.  
Maybe it was not the smartest idea to move during the European tour, it requested so much strength and a lot of nerves. But he wanted to - no, had to - do this now. Mark ignored all of Jason’s reasoning, all of Gary’s attempts to make him see that it was a silly thing to do by making charming and witty jokes he could not be mad about and also Howard’s sensitive approach. Nothing could stop him from doing this. More than once, each one of them had taken Mark aside and asked him whether he was certain that it was the right decision. No, he certainly wasn’t. But more because he knew himself. He knew of his desire to always run away. But he also knew that - no matter where he’d been running in the past, in which building he’d lived or what he’d dreamed about - something inside him had never stopped looking for the "all". Because the "nothing" had been part of his life for way too long now.   
Suddenly he felt two arms around his waist and a head on his shoulder. For a moment, he closed his eyes and grinned, as he snuggled up against the taller man. "Hey," said a soft voice behind him. "Hey," he replied, obviously pleased with himself and the world. The hum behind him increased the butterflies in his stomach and he felt like he almost burst with joy. Mark wondered when he’d been this happy before and it was incredibly difficult to come up with anything remotely close, remotely perfect. He still looked out the window and put his arms on the man behind him, took his hands into his own, and joked, "Rob, aren’t you supposed to carry me over the threshold? That’s how they do it, isn’t it?" and before Mark knew it, he shrieked with laughter as he was lifted up and held closely onto Rob who marched through the living room into the bedroom as if he weighed nothing at all. He looked at his friend's eyes that sparkled at least as much as his own probably did.  
"You know the saying that the stuff you’re dreaming the first night in your new home will come true ...", Rob said with a cheeky grin that could not conceal his true feelings, and laid him down on the bed, before bending over him with the words "... then let's make sure that you’ll dream of me."


End file.
